


fox in the snow (where do you go?)

by alesford



Series: our family of choice [28]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Background Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught - Freeform, Background Wynonna Earp/Doc Holliday - Freeform, Cute Kids, F/F, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Bullying, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesford/pseuds/alesford
Summary: Belle pulls at the knit toque on her head, trying to tug it over her ears, which are starting to sting in the cold. She waits, kicking at a pine cone on top of the snow. It sails down the hill, broken apart by the force of her kick and already brittle from the wintry weather.She isn’t particularly sure that they should be doing this. Her mama told them to stay out of trouble because she had to run into town to drop something off at the station. She said she trusted them not to do something that Wynonna would do because they’re smarter and more responsible than that.Does building a toboggan obstacle course on the steepest hill on the homestead count as smart and responsible?(Probably not.)





	fox in the snow (where do you go?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sensitive_pigeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensitive_pigeon/gifts).



> From the anonymous tumblr ask that I'm pretty sure came from [**@sensitive-pigeon**](http://sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com): _BRUH what if snowball fight_.
> 
> It isn't exactly a snowball fight, but it is kids being (stupid) kids in the wintertime.

**fox in the snow (where do you go?)**

_kid in the snow, way to go_   
_it only happens once a year_   
_it only happens once a lifetime_   
_make the most of it_   
_\- ‘the fox in the snow’ by belle and sebastian_

 

 

Alice stares at her with a confounded look. The snowball that she’d been poised to chuck at her cousin’s face drops to the ground without a sound.

“You’ve never done a toboggan obstacle course before?” Alice blinks incredulously.

Carefully and suspiciously, Belle creeps out from behind the old tree acting as her cover from the bombardment. She shoves her mittened hands into the pockets of her puffy winter coat — it’s like Waverly’s but green instead of blue — and kicks at the freshly fallen snow with a booted foot.

“So what?” she mutters petulantly.

She’s tired of the kids making fun of her for all the things she’s never done. She’s only eight years old; how can they expect her to have done all of these things?

  
(They don’t know, though. Most of them.

Or if they do, they whisper about it and still poke fun.

Her papa was an angry man. Her ma was barely there, even if she was always _there._

She’s still learning how to be a kid. That’s what Alice says. She’s supposed to be helping Belle learn how to be a kid.)

  
“ _So what_ nothing,” Alice says, crossing her arms. “This is moving up to code red at the top of our list.”

The List is all of the things that Belle needs to experience because she ‘ _had a traumatic childhood_ ’.

  
(Alice isn’t wrong. Belle thinks that maybe it’s easier to face it point blank rather than tiptoe around it on eggshells.)

  
The List includes things like _have a snowball fight_ (check), _eat so much ice cream you puke_ (check), _get into a food fight_ , _go dirt biking,_ _drink piña coladas_ , and _getting caught in the rain._

It’s a work in progress. Still… Belle likes lists and things to look forward to and things to plan.

“Tobogganing?” Belle tilts her head curiously, thoughtfully. She shuffles farther away from the tree and closer towards her cousin. She can see the wheels turning in Alice’s brain; she’s been witness to enough scheming by her and Aunt ‘Nonna to know the look. This isn’t going to end well.  


She already knows that she’s all in.

  
“What about dirt biking?”

“There’s too much snow. We can’t go dirt biking until it melts anyways.” Alice trudges forwards through the snow and slips her hand around Belle’s. “C’mon. We can get obstacles from the barn. The biggest hill is behind the house.”

One day, Belle will learn that following Alice’s every whim tends to lead to trouble and or injury. She’ll come to realize that being the daughter of Wynonna Earp and Doc Holliday lends to certain risk-taking proclivities, untameable curiosity, and a thirst for adventure. And despite all of this, Belle will still follow her to the ends of the earth and over the edge, too. Maybe pull her back from the edge, too, when the situation calls for it.

That’s just what family does.

Today, though — today they push and pull an old wheelbarrow from the barn, flipping it upside down on the biggest hill on the homestead not too far from the house. They drag a mice-infested bale of hay through the snow, leaving a trail of dried grass to its place on their makeshift course. Alice borrows a chair from the dining table and Belle pilfers as many canned goods as her tiny arms can carry.

It isn’t a particularly difficult obstacle course. It’s the best that they can do on such short notice.

“We’ll make a better one when we have more time to plan,” Alice tells her, plodding back to the barn. “Wait here,” she shouts over her shoulder when Belle starts to follow.

Belle pulls at the knit toque on her head, trying to tug it over her ears, which are starting to sting in the cold. She waits, kicking at a pine cone on top of the snow. It sails down the hill, broken apart by the force of her kick and already brittle from the wintry weather.

She isn’t particularly sure that they should be doing this. Her mama told them to stay out of trouble because she had to run into town to drop something off at the station. She said she trusted them not to do something that Wynonna would do because they’re smarter and more responsible than that.

  
Does building a toboggan obstacle course on the steepest hill on the homestead count as smart and responsible?

  
(Probably not.)

  
But Alice is already dragging an ancient-looking sled out of the barn. It’s made entirely of wood and by the looks of it, Belle wouldn’t be surprised if it was her mama’s sled when she was their age.

“Dolls got me a Captain America saucer sled, but it isn’t big enough for the two of us,” Alice explains, hauling the toboggan by the rope attached to its front. It still glides over the snow with ease. “Besides, this is what they used in the old days.”

“Old doesn’t necessarily mean good, Alice,” Belle murmurs skeptically.

“Mom and dad would’ve gotten rid of it if it wasn’t still good.”

Belle isn’t sure if she finds that logic sound. After all, she once found a bottle of salad dressing in the refrigerator that expired two years ago; she doesn’t know if she trusts Wynonna or Doc to clean out the stuff that isn’t so good anymore.

But then Alice is guiding the sled towards the beginning of their obstacle run and looking at her with excitement in her eyes. “C’mon!” she beckons, plunking herself into the space at the front of the death contraption.

Like a moth to a flame, Belle takes a seat behind Alice. She remembers how Alice makes her brave. She remembers how she wants to be brave for Alice. For herself. And she reaches her arms around her cousin’s waist, gripping onto the rope with her hands nestled next to Alice’s. She peers over her shoulder, watching as they scoot towards the tipping point.

“Ride or die, Haught Bologna,” Alice whispers with frightening glee.

Belle holds on for dear life.

The wheelbarrow is upon them faster than they expect, and both of them jerk the reins, overcompensating and sending them skidding past the dining room chair and through the small pyramid of canned goods that Belle had created.

Their shouts are a mixture of terrified, concerned, exhilarated, and fueled by adrenaline. It’s a toss-up regarding which one of those things is lending the most volume to their screams.

Of course, they realize pretty quickly that toboggan obstacle courses are more difficult to navigate than they are to build and that neither of them are particularly apt at either of those tasks. Because there’s a hay bale in front of them, and instead of crashing into the soft — though soggy — mess, both of them steer the sled right towards a sappling at the bottom of the hill.

The side of the toboggan clips the hay bale, slowing their descent ever so slightly. They still hit the tree. It’s enough force to send them toppling into a nearby snow drift. Also to snap the wooden sled into two pieces. Or three. Maybe a lot more than three.

Belle’s face burns in the cold. There’s snow creeping down her shirt and into her trousers and deep into her socks, melting, melting, melting into wet, squishy awfulness.

“Belle!” Alice’s voice is panicked and she feels a strong hand grip her arm and pull her from her snowy tomb. She feels warm fingers brushing away the frost clinging to her face and sees worried blue eyes giving her a once-over. “You okay?”

She wiggles her toes and then her fingers. She tries to wiggle her nose, too. “I can’t feel my nose,” she mumbles. “It’s cold.”

“It is cold. C’mon.” She takes Belle by the hand again, gentler this time, and leads her up the hill and back into the house.

They strip down to their long underwear and pull blankets off of Alice’s bed and huddle beside the wooden stove that’s steadfastly burning with enough heat to return feeling to their fingers, toes, and noses. Alice holds Belle close, running hands up and down her arms for friction and warmth.

“Sorry,” she says quietly once the adrenaline begins to fade and they’re sitting side by side, each with their knees drawn to their chests and their arms wrapped around their legs. “That was a dumb idea.”

“It was kind of a dumb idea,” Belle agrees. “It was still fun, even if it was a little scary, too.”

“I’m sorry we almost got hurt.”

Belle twists beneath the blankets to see Alice staring at the furnace with a furrowed brow. There’s guilt written across her face, and Belle can see those wheels turning again. The ones that lead to a place with which she’s already too well acquainted. Self-doubt, regret, shame. It’s hard to run away from them once the wheels gain traction.

She jostles Alice with a bump of her shoulder. “Ride or die. You’re my family. _And_ you’re my best friend. We were stupid together but you made sure I was okay in the end. Mom says we have to make mistakes so we can learn from them. Besides, most of the stuff on the list is stupid kid stuff. That’s the point.”

Alice shrugs, but some of the tension in her shoulders eases away and she allows herself to lean into Belle’s solid form. Safe.

They both startle when the door opens.

“Is there a reason you two look like frozen Earpsicles?” Waverly asks, hands on her hips and a very stern look on her face.

“How can I be an Earpsicle and Haught at the same time?”

  
It is not the right thing to say if she’s interpreting her mama’s unamused scowl correctly.

  
“Belle Lucia Haught.”

“Full-named,” Alice mumbles beside her. “Ouch.”

“Alice Michelle Holliday.”

“You too,” grumbles Belle.

Waverly glares at the both of them. “What happened? Spill.”

They fold like a house of cards built in Shorty’s on a Friday night during happy hour, and they explain everything. The snowball fight. The obstacle course. The toboggan accident.

“What did I tell you two before I left?” she snaps. “You are two very bright young women and I trusted you to be _smart_ and _responsible_ and then you go risk breaking your neck for some ridiculous homemade tobogganing _Jackass_ stunt!”

Waverly squats down to their eye level, sighing loudly as she combs her fingers through her hair. Her breathing evens out after her brief but serious condemnation. “You two aren’t idiots,” she says more calmly. “Do you think you two could _try_ not to behave like idiots? I don’t need a heart attack before I turn forty.”

Their heads bob in tandem.

“Sorry, mama.”

“Sorry, Aunt Waverly.”

She bounces to her feet, slapping her palms against her thighs. “You two are probably warm enough now that you don’t need hot cocoa, right?”

Alice shakes her head. “No, we’re still cold, Aunt Waves. So cold.”

Belle nods her head in agreement. “Brrr. Very cold. We need hot cocoa.”

Waverly smirks. “With marshmallow creme, I presume?”

“Sugar will give us more energy to warm up,” Belle says with certainty.

“What Belle said.”

Waverly chuckles at the two of them, ruffling their snow-wet hair as she steps towards the kitchen. “Guess we’ll just have to add extra marshmallow creme, hmm?”

 

 


End file.
